One-Shot Wonder: Overwatch Fallen Angel
by TimoremCordeNostro
Summary: One-shot of the death of the Angel of Mercy. Someone firmly rooted in their beliefs, someone who would refuse to give up even in the face of death, a Veteran of the Omnic-Crisis and expert in her field and lover of our dearest Genji. I'm afraid, Guter Doktor. That you will Fall to the Earth. And like all Angels, you will lose your wings. And You Will Die.


**Play The Rebellion by Revolt Production Music on loop.**

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Silence.

Is all the sound in the world to someone who has lost Hope.

A deafening silence, as much as she knew it were impossible.

The battlefield around her lay in ruin, buildings having been torn asunder and the ground no longer smooth, but instead jagged and uneven as the rain pours from the Heavens that she is most notably thought to have come from.

She never denied it, why would she?

It gave others Hope when they had none.

She healed those that had been caught among the ruble of the wars of the world.

And silently mourned for the people who travelled into the howling dark. And did not return.

Soldier and Civilian alike.

Yet it still drove her forward, determined to save all she could.

She did not realise how childish it all would've seemed to the outside looking in.

But she did not care.

She would work tirelessly throughout her days and nights, despite the both blurring together as the same colour in her fluid memory.

It wasn't until the day she treated a boy no younger than herself did she feel anything but the constant drive to help who she found.

She learned to slow down.

"Take a breath, Angela, here, drink." She smiled sadly at the memory, the day the raven haired boy first made her a perfect coffee.

She remembered the times they shared despite being distant at certain points, they still maintained it to this very day...but the day _after_...

Her crystal blue eyes lit up faintly as she took a look at everything around her.

Or what was left of it.

Tears threatened to leave her eyes as she fell to her knees, defeated, tempest struck.

She blinked once, twice, thrice. But the scene before her refused to do anything other than carve itself into her mind.

And with the first tear shed, she began to cry.

A river of sorrow will be sung silently as her vocal cords strained from the sound you would expect from a choir poured not only from herself, but the Heavens she had been known to come from.

"I-I'm...s-so, so s-sorry..." She barely whispered, feeling nothing the crushing demand of defeat.

Not feeling her own warm tears drifting down her cheeks, nor the cold prick of her sisters in the skies raining down to her still body.

She barely looked up to the individuals armoured in black, her own white and gold outfit, shinning brighter by comparison.

The red gleam of Deaths fingers pointing at her, the accused.

She couldn't speak, neither did she have anything to say, with nothing to defend herself for, or against, kneeling before Death's Hand willingly to accept herself into his arms.

A flower that will wilt in its final breath.

However, when she see's a yellow glowing orb sitting in front of her, flickering like a flame.

She cups the wisp into her hands, staring deep into the soul of her own, a reflection of one who isn't ready to give up in the slightest.

A memory Hope slowly fills her person and fuels her drive, and she can't help but remember...remember why she fights and dies.

Her tears run dry as her feelings are slowly being overcome.

She stares up at the individual before her, feeling the cold cylindrical cusp of Deaths own forefinger and thumb.

She smiles defiantly, as a rebellion is about to be vanquished.

"Heroes never-"

With a silent THOOM, the ground turns red.

A small hole to mark the path of one freshly dead.

Her Halo ejects itself, her once tiara like object being a symbol.

Now being a Beacon as the Angel has Fell to the Earth and mud beneath her.

Death itself appears before his Hand, a ghostly wraith from which a silent demand is delivered.

His Hand leaves the Reaper to his own devices as he walks over to the body of the woman he once knew, silently noting her expression before giving the respect she is due.

The Widowmaker reserves herself from the scene with a hand to the shoulder of her companion.

Closing her eyes as she joins an Archangels choir, somewhere the two are sure she'll be for the rest of eternity.

"Let's move." Came the cold voice of the Widow as Reaper stands to his feet, nodding without a sound before they both move on, following behind the Hand that points at wherever and Whoever it wishes.

However the wisp simply stays there, covered by her arms, not dissipating in the slightest as its hidden in the warmth of an Angels grasp.

A cold metallic hand brushes her still smiling face.

Disbelief behind the eyes of part man and part machine.

"A-Angela..." He begged to himself with a shaky voice.

Nothing, not even the cruelest of fates to himself could compare to what he has now lost.

A part of himself is crest-fallen, the other filling with rage.

But soon enough, he will realise that not everything he fights for will be for nothing.

He slowly picks up her motionless and still warm form, keeping her close to him and dry.

He enters the nearest tent, placing her on a table nearby, making sure she is comfortable at the very least and presses a button on a nearby console, the machine above her whirring to life.

A tiny piece of hope fills his eyes as he watches the machine scan her, not being able to take is eyes away from it.

Not even reacting when the machine pauses and sends a red signal back to the console.

The only thing he can hear as his Hope runs dry, is the slow song of his own heart beat.

He falls to his knees and clenches his fist as the beat in his chest gets faster and faster, the second half of grief becoming his master.

He roars with unbridled rage, destroying everything in his path before finally turning and stumbling to his love still freshly passed.

He removes his mask and cries until it feels like his very soul is hollow, devoid of anything besides despair.

He notices a soft glow from something warm in her arms, steadily opening it up to see a wisp she'd once told him she could see for whomever would die and has done so.

He once thought it was a joke and God did he feel sorry for his younger self at that.

He steadily lifted it delicately, cupping it as she once did to his own as she'd once told him, with a simple smile and a saying as the tent dripped from a hole above him.

She would give him Hope even after she's gone, from a simple word or two from her own soft lips.

He turns to her Halo, a symbol he's gotten to know.

He glances at the wisp and places it back with her, placing her Halo where it rightfully belongs, pressing the console again to scan what he now knows was not entirely whole.

Within a minute of him holding his breath, he begins to feel faint, until he manages to glimpse the ethereal golden glow, rising along with his loves once lifeless form.

He hears the famous words, feeling Life where he once Lost.

"Angela..."

 _"Heroes Never Die." ~ Mercy._

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 **(I want to thank ThePrimeCronus for bringing me The Rebellion by Revolt Production Music as well as the stunning piece of art work by Seiorai, which inspired me to make this piece of writing. Let me know what you think and no you can't share my own box of tissues and no I'm not crying! I just went near some chopped onions!)**


End file.
